You Just Need The Proper Delivery
by Manchester
Summary: Xander Harris, whatever his current personality, has a really twisted sense of humor. As demonstrated on a particular Halloween night. No. 6 of Harmony's Halloween Choices.
1. Chapter 1

It was a good warehouse.

It was a GREAT warehouse.

It was a warehouse that for five years running had received the highly coveted quadruple death's head award in Willy the Snitch's 'An Insider's Guide to Sunnydale - Where to Lurk, Plot, and Party With Your Friends (see page 8 for catering).'

This enormous building didn't stand out at all in its run-down neighborhood, which was basically the whole point. It was located in that part of the California town where Sunnydale Syndrome was really intense, causing people to conveniently ignore at night the truly horrific sounds emitting from the hulking structure. You know, the usual: screams, chanting, the tearing of dimensional barriers signaling the slime-sucking arrival of a soul-destroying abomination from the darkest depths of the cosmos, and the practicing of 'Bei Mir Bist Du Schoen' by the Sunnydale Scots/German Friendship Polka Band, heavy on the bagpipes and tubas. Concurrently.

The Hellmouth had a lot to answer for.

Anyway, the outside walls of this particular windowless warehouse were painted (or daubed, your choice) in a palette of forgettable brown, unnoticeable rust, and what-place-was-that? guano white, all such shades of amnesiac drabness that carried over to the institutional memory of whatever corporation, company, or person that owned the building. The taxes, utilities, maintenance/repair fees, and janitorial bills were absently paid on the dot, but nobody ever seemed to show up to actually run or inspect the place. It was quite probable that anybody who in fact had the responsibility of administering the location had been eaten years ago.

Naturally, the people (in the broadest sense of that word) of Sunnydale took full advantage of this ignorance. That specific warehouse soon became the place to go for whatever various nefarious, reprehensible, and disreputable activities anyone wished to carry out in the course of their shady business. The best part of it all was that the building's interior was absolutely perfect in every way, as agreed by the town's demons, monsters, unearthly creatures, and those members of The Benevolent and Protective Order of Elks.

Inside, surrounded by the begrimed walls that hid all the suspicious activities there from the outside world, massive wooden crates, covered with strange markings, sigils, and languages from every known and some unknown countries, were piled high, up into looming hills that disappeared into the darkness towards the ceiling. Nobody actually knew what was within the crates, and frankly, nobody cared. It was enough that these boxes were a lot more atmospheric than the usual prosaic metal and plastic containers. At and around the bottom of these small hills and into the piles of crates meandered various lanes, nooks, passageways, crannies, and corridors where the usual suspects could skulk, eavesdrop, prowl, hide from view, pounce, and have a nice game of canasta.

In the center of the warehouse, where that building's pair of wide main corridors met on their east/west and north/south axis, a large rectangular wooden table sullenly rested. Its surface scarred with numerous scratches, clawmarks, dents, and somewhat peculiar messages carved onto the top of the table (such as 'Kilroy Was Here - The Original') all revealed the dark reddish-purple wood of the aged-into-dinginess timbers that made up the table. This color also had the commendable quality of successfully hiding bloodstains.

This table was directly beneath the only windows of the entire warehouse, a large A-frame skylight, with that casement more than willing to join in the fun occurring nightly, by allowing anybody outside on the roof, or higher, who were looking downwards in the warehouse and its current inhabitants around the table to never expose themselves, no matter where or how bright the overhead moon shone, even if it meant totally disregarding the proper motion of that sphere in the heavens. Unless, of course, they actually wanted to silhouette their presence, sending a menacing shadow onto the tabletop below, striking fear into the hearts of those evildoers conspiring against the innocent citizens of Sunnydale (all seventeen of 'em).

That specific event wasn't scheduled yet. At least not for the next couple of minutes, so just hold on yer horses, buckaroos.

Instead, kindly direct your attention to the nice range of villainy currently standing around the warehouse table at this exact moment, several weeks after a certain Halloween. While not up to the classic recitation in the movie 'Blazing Saddles' of those prepared to bring wickedness and doom to the world, even Spike the vampire had to admit he'd managed to gather together as a fine group of malefactors as ever had joyously devoured human babies.

Of course, the British demon noted to himself, with these blokes, you always had to show them that you were the top dog, while also keeping in mind that murdering everyone there possessing the slightest spark of intelligence somewhat defeated the whole purpose of bringing together a crowd of monsters to finally kill that soddin' Slayer and her friends. No, you had to steer a middle course of getting total dimwits to listen to your plan while also dealing with those bystanders having a sudden flicker of ambition in usurping your position. Fortunately, he was bloody well capable of doing that, especially right now.

Keeping a bored expression on his face, Spike casually ripped out the tongue of the vampire hopelessly struggling in the headlock that blond Englishman was securely holding the other demon. That unlucky fiend's fleshy organ puffed into ashes a second later in Spike's grip, with the rest of the maimed vampire's body following right after into dust, when the former member of the Scourge of Europe used his other arm to tear off his victim's head.

"Now, as I was saying before that twit opened his big mouth," calmly stated Spike stepping out of the dust cloud towards the end of the table, past another heap of ashes resting on the floor and a puddle of demonic goo alongside this powdery mound (three challengers was about the average number at these meetings, anyway). "With the Mayor gone, this bleedin' town's ours for the taking. All you have to do is get rid of the Slayer and her gang, and then we'll rule the Hellmouth."

At hearing that specific pronoun in Spike's proclamation, various eyes and other sensing organs possessed by the demons there listening to this now shifted, to nervously examine the remains lying there on the warehouse floor, the last residues of those who'd just defied the vampire now coolly lighting up a Silk Cut. It was unanimously agreed by these monsters in the privacies of their minds that 'we' meant 'me, and I don't give the slightest tuppenny damn if you got a problem with that.'

On the other hand, claw, or talon… If Spike actually had a decent idea that did manage to accomplish his proposal, then there would soon be more than enough blood and bodies to glut the hungriest demon. So, it only made sense to give him a chance to outline his strategy, and if it sounded feasible and did in fact succeed, well, then that vampire could always be given a holy water enema in the future as a reward from his appreciative followers delighting in their triumph.

Smirking through his cigarette smoke at the rest of the monsters so obviously planning their imminent treachery, Spike leaned forward to rest his palms down onto the tabletop. Sweeping his eyes around the foul host cautiously awaiting his latest scheme, the Englishman shifted his fag to the corner of his mouth by his lips alone, with that cancer stick bobbing along in time with his next muttered words. "Right, then, here's how it goes…"

At the far end of the warehouse table, two other vampires ignored all that was being discussed over there among the big boys. Frankly, that pair were just there to make up the numbers, with both of the demons standing there cheerfully accepting the fact they were last on the pecking order, which suited them just fine. As long as they got a young virgin or two for dinner every once in a while (female or male, either was fine), Chuck Tell and Ron Cheroskee were content to be the vampire muscle for their demonic bosses. Taking the opportunity when nobody was paying any attention to them, Chuck leaned over to his friend and whispered into that vampire's ear. "Hey, Ron, you heard anything new about what happened to the Mayor?"

Ron shrugged, glancing over at where a fascinated mob of some of the worst beings in existence were engrossed in Spike's plan. He looked back at his comrade in unlife, shaking his head. "Nope, just the same rumors about what they found stuffed deep in that guy's throat."

"What?" blurted out Chuck, his face a mask of confusion. "I, uh, heard that it went waaaaay up you-know-where."

Ron blinked, now as befuddled as his friend. "Where?"

Chuck cautiously eyed his superiors in villainy down the table, with these now beginning to have delighted grins showing all their fangs as they clearly appreciated what they were hearing. Turning back to Ron, Chuck said a bit uncomfortably, his body shifting to mirror his uneasy tone, "Uh, where the sun don't shine, if you get my drift."

Ron was really baffled at this moment. "What the hell are you talking about? Was the Mayor a vampire, or what? Because that doesn't make sense, when I heard he choked to death, his air supply cut off-"

"Hey," interrupted an argumentative Chuck, "I got it straight from a guy at Willy's bar who swore to me that the boss demon who formerly ran this city had a fatal rupture of his guts-"

_Smack!_ A pair of hands abruptly clapped down on the outer shoulders of the arguing vampires, as a jovially threatening voice spoke in a Cockney-style accent. "You blokes want to tell us just what you were nattering about? I'd hate to think we were keeping you wankers from such an important debate. If you like, we can adjourn our meeting and listen to you, instead." Spike leered that last statement into the horrified faces of Ron and Chuck hastily twisting their necks around to look at where the English vampire was now standing behind them, his gripping fingers beginning to dig into the tops of their shoulders.

Since they were already dead, it wasn't possible for the features of the two caught unawares vampires to become even more pale in fright, even when they abruptly jerked their heads around to look up the table, where their superiors were now giving them both evil smiles of combined irritation and amusement. Irritation because of Spike suddenly interrupting his delivery of a most interesting and workable plan to them, to then quietly stroll towards a wrangling pair of demons absorbed in their own dispute. Amusement at what was going to happen to those two idiots in the next few seconds.

As Spike now lifted his hands off the shoulders of those soon-to-be-even-deader tossers, preparing in the next instant to grab them both by their skulls and play a game of vampire conkers, he, along with every other demon at the table suddenly froze in absolute astonishment at hearing a merry voice beginning to loudly speak, coming from behind the west stack of crates on the edge of the corridor containing the table. Not only was this voice inexplicably cheerful about being in the presence of at least a dozen ferocious fiends, all sworn enemies of humankind, which certainly included the owner of that voice now happily chortling, "Last night, I shot an elephant in my pajamas and how he got into my pajamas, I'll never know!"

Right after that absurd announcement, a very strange…_person _then skipped out from behind the crates into the corridor, and then coming to a halt to simply stand there and beam through thick glasses with black frames at all the gaping spectators staring at him. Every demon there boggled at seeing a skinny human male, his age perhaps in his mid-twenties, and dressed in a close-fitting light-purple unitard, with darker purple boots, shorts, and a cape over his front and back that was slashed into wedges of also dark-purple fabric hanging nearly down to the man's white belt holding up his shorts. Most baffling of all, the man was wearing on his head a most peculiar dark-purple hat that covered all his skull and consisted of a leather cap with a dozen strips of this material attached to the top of the headgear and now dangling down to his shoulders, with all of these long, flat leather strips having a tiny, dull-metal bell fastened to their ends.

Grinning widely, the human then performed an expert cartwheel, with his headgear thrashing around during this gymnastic feat and causing the attached bells to gaily jingle throughout all this. As the interloped landed effortlessly back upon his feet, he spread out his arms to then deliver the totally incongruous declaration, "Hey, I just flew in from New York, and boy, are my arms tired!"

After hearing that, Spike finally dropped his hands back onto the shoulders of Ron and Chuck, to firmly push them towards this…this…whatever, while ordering in a no-nonsense growl, "Kill that soddin' nutter, and don't take all bleedin' night about it!"

Fervently thanking their lucky stars for their narrow escape from what Spike had just been planning for them, the two vampires hastily nodded their acceptance of his annoyed command, shifted into game face, and then stalked from the end of the table towards the man still standing there and watching the pair of demons come nearer. That still-grinning prospective victim's only reaction to seeing his forthcoming death approaching was, strangely enough, his smile become even wider in absolute glee.


	2. Chapter 2

Several minutes earlier, right before the concluding events of the last chapter, a deep voice cut off the cursing by someone else about having to fight his way through a head wind, rumbling, "Will you pipe down? I want to listen to this!"

From where he sat, leaning back against the large object sharing their ride, a man looked up at hearing that annoyed comment. This man was dressed in a Robin Hood costume of boots, stockings, shorts, a sleeveless leather tunic known as a jerkin plus a quiver filled with numerous arrows strapped to the back of the jerkin, wristbands, and a jaunty pointed hat with a large white feather jutting into the air from the back tip of the hat. Save for this feather, everything else worn by that man had been dyed a brilliant canary-yellow.

A panicky expression now blossomed upon the golden-clad man's face, as he started moaning in fear, all while clutching his hundred-pound-draw archer's bow in his suddenly-damp palms. "Oh, my god, what's gone wrong? We should have come up with another plan! We're doomed, I tell you, DOOMED!"

"YOU shut up, too!" snarled the deep voice coming from the man lying on his back along the green, rubberized casing of their transport. Rolling his eyes in exasperation at his seated companion, the prone man then glowered at the other through his black upper facemask. Taking a calming breath that swelled his massive chest, with his costume there stretching over the white letter 'A' detailed on the front of his body, the man in the black form-fitting uniform that showed off every bulging muscle now said in a more composed tone, "Herman, are we there yet?"

A preoccupied grunt came from the front of the twenty-foot wide flattened cylinder that would have ordinarily caused any inhabitant of the small California city truly serious strain in maintaining their Sunnydale Syndrome while at this moment accidentally catching sight of something that was totally weird. Even for residents of that town more than capable of ignoring just about anything bizarre occurring in their vicinity, it would have been a considerable shock for them to look up in the air and see a small, green blimp floating in the air several hundred feet up in the sky. Particularly if these dumbfounded witnesses had very keen eyesight, or just binoculars, to be able to see the human head sticking out from the front edge of the blimp, with this head having a green helmet with pudgy fins running along the sides and top of this headgear.

This cranium was now looking down, clearly searching for something, until a flash of satisfaction now appeared on what was underneath this peculiar green helmet, namely a young man's chubby features, with him now happily reporting, "We're right there, Leander! A couple more seconds, and I'll stop over it!" A look of intense concentration now appeared on Herman Cramer's face, as he lifted his head to stare at the horizon and then he opened his mouth as wide as he could. An instant later, a massive belch erupted from this orifice, with this strong gust of wind continuing longer than thought humanly possible. The blimp formerly floating lazily through the air now came to a complete stop.

"Okay, William, check it out," ordered Leander Brent.

"You know I hate heights!" whined the archer. "Besides, why are we using our own names? I thought we made a pact to call each other by our superhero titles, after that little mix-up with the JLA and our secret identities."

Gritting his teeth, Leander snapped, "Like Myron said, nobody knows who we are in this dimension! So, it doesn't matter if we use our real names, not to mention that Athena certainly finds it a lot easier remembering who she's talking to. Now, stick your head over the side and check our target! Unless you want me to do it?" At that last question, an irritated gleam appeared in the eyes of the man in the black costume, as he began to shift his body with its mammoth muscles.

"NO!" yelped William King, with real horror now in his voice. Right after that, while sending a disgusted look at the prone man smirking at the archer, William sullenly reached back with the left hand holding his bow, to hook this weapon securely to his quiver. Then, the bowman dropped onto his stomach to wiggle his entire body past the other man lying on his back, until William could hesitantly peek over the edge of the blimp and look down at the ground far below, followed by his face turning almost as green as Herman's costume.

Shuddering, the man in the yellow uniform then pulled his head in and crawled backwards until he felt it was safe enough to then get up on his hands and knees at next to Leander's head looking up at him. Taking a deep breath of relief, the archer nodded, "Okay, it won't be a problem for either of us."

"Good," grunted the man clad in midnight-black. "Because, from what I'm listening to inside that warehouse, Spike has a really good plan that could actually work. So, everyone, it's game time!" At those last words, Leander reached down with his right hand to his belt buckle, to grip it and squeeze, once.

Up in the air, William and Herman simultaneously felt their own belt buckles beginning to vibrate. This pulsation was also sensed by two other people inside the warehouse anxiously awaiting their call to action, with someone clad in their purple jester's costume now carrying out his portion of the plan he'd laid out for everyone earlier today, as he cheerfully spoke a classic comedy line in his carrying voice, while the young man then moved out of his hiding place among the wooden crates.

Right after Leander's action, William promptly got up on his feet, though the archer still remained in a crouch as he scooted over to stand next to the right side of his friend's colossal body. Leaning forward to grab Leander's lower right arm just below the elbow, William's gripping fingers only went a third around that limb that felt as hard as steel. Still, that was enough for him to have enough of a hold, as the archer now carefully checked his posture, making sure he'd be using just his legs for this. It would be an absolute disaster now if his back went out at what he was going to do.

In the next second, William then heaved upwards, while Leander remained absolutely immobile during his body being turned over on its side, to teeter for an instant on the edge of the blimp, until William shifted his straining muscles from lifting into pushing, and he now shoved the man in the black costume over the side of the airship, for Leander to start plummeting at an ever-increasing speed down towards the very hard ground far below.


	3. Chapter 3

Physics happened next, as the blimp that had just lost an immense weight instantly soared higher straight up, while the edge of the green airship where Leander had been lying also immediately heaved upwards. With utmost precision and using every bit of force from the blimp's rapid rise, William then straightened his legs into a soaring jump outwards into thin air away from the airship, performing a classic swan dive, though as the archer momentarily paused in the apex of his leap, he wasn't looking down into a swimming pool, but rather instead right at Leander's body now falling face down, aimed dead-on at the large skylight of the warehouse directly below.

Most people used to this kind of thing might have been pleased at this moment at how well their plan was going, but then, William wasn't like most people. As demonstrated by the archer beginning to shriek in conjunction with his beginning descent, "Aaaaaahhhhhh! I KNEW I should have become a hairdresser!"

Not to mention while screaming the above statement at the top of his lungs, William sent his arms rapidly behind his back, with his left hand grabbing and unhooking his bow to hastily bring that weapon forward, and his right hand darting into the top of his quiver, to smoothly pull out an arrow. Faster than anyone might have expected, the arrow was nocked and drawn to the bow's full extent, with William also using his left thumb curled around the bow grip, flicking that digit against a little switch on the side of this part of the bow.

At once, a tiny hatch on the face of the bow slid open and a metal ring popped out from inside the weapon, to loop itself around the razor-sharp arrowhead just above the hatch, sliding down this steel tip until the ring was at the arrow shaft right below the pointed head, whereupon this circular piece of metal then promptly tightened itself into a vise-like grip on the arrow. It all happened so quickly that William released his crooked right fingers gripping the back end of the arrow just after moving his left thumb, seeing with satisfaction the arrow streaking away in a blur straight down, carrying along with it a thin but immensely strong metal cable, attached to the ring fastened to the arrow, and paying out from the storage space inside the bow.

Phlegmatically watching the skylight coming nearer, a still-falling Leander saw out of the corner of his eye an arrow flashing past him, to embed itself point down into the metal strip where the bottom of the casement met the warehouse roof. In the next instant, the man costumed in midnight-black plunged through the skylight and then kept going, to land face-first onto the warehouse floor, all of this accompanied by a thunderous BANG-WHAM! that reverberated throughout the entire building.

Even before the last of the glass from the shattered skylight fell onto the floor, William dropped through the hole now in the roof, twisting his body to enter feet first and holding on in utter terror with both hands gripping the ends of his bow, as the cable that had reeled itself in now had the line drawn back out at an incredible rate that the braking device inside the bow could barely handle. Still, as his weapon bent in a graceful curve under his slowing inertia, William lifted up his legs, both to prevent his feet from smashing against the warehouse floor, and to also swing forward his weight, as his body started to rebound upwards. This caused William to rise through the air in an ascending curve towards something built just below the warehouse ceiling, about twenty feet past the now-ruined skylight.

Again, at exactly the proper moment, William's left thumb once more flicked the switch on the bow grip, causing the tiny hatch that was the top cover of the cable compartment to snap shut, severing the line and sending the released archer to soar horizontally through the air flat on his back, towards the catwalk three stories up and stretching across the entire warehouse. His face a mask of dread, William peeked through the space between his feet at where he was now heading at a horrendous velocity towards this narrow walkway, and then with a sweep of his arms that twisted his body around, the man rotated on his axis so that he was then looking down at the floor while still flying through the air.

That latter action had been accomplished just before the bottoms of William's boots hit the outer side of the catwalk's upper railing. Instantly, the archer bent his legs to take the shock, and also killed most of his body's velocity by allowing himself to partially perform a back somersault until he was crouched at a nearly ninety-degree angle on top of the railing, while now beginning to fall backwards. To prevent that, William immediately thrust straight his bent legs to leap right up, ending the last of his momentum in an expert back flip, to land lightly on his feet in the middle of the catwalk, which still shuddered under his abruptly-added weight.

Even before the catwalk had stopped shaking, William had another arrow from his quiver ready, drawing and letting loose this shaft in a blur of his arms, all while complaining out loud to himself, "You know what's going to happen now, don't you?" Getting ready another arrow in the blink of an eye, the archer glumly watched his first shaft sink its full length to the rear feathers into the chest of a fleeing vampire below, with the body of that demon instantly puffing into ashes and taking along with its destruction the arrow that had just pierced its unbeating heart.

SNAP! Another arrow was sent unerringly into a second vampire, with the same thing happening of both it and William's second arrow being destroyed, causing the man dressed in yellow to shudderingly confess his worse fear (well, No. 384 of his worse fears), "There's no way anybody will believe this when I write off my arrows on my taxes! The IRS is gonna audit me, for sure!"


	4. Chapter 4

From the spot on the warehouse floor where Leander was performing a push-up to extract himself from the body-shaped crater he'd created in his face-down landing, William's whining was easily heard by the man in the black costume using his superhuman hearing, causing him to give a deeply exasperated sigh that sent out a puff of concrete dust from his lips. His eyes still shut, Leander also strongly shook his head at the same time to get rid of the same powder clinging to the rest of his face, while he blindly reached out to grab hold of anything nearby that would help him get to his feet.

His right hand brushed against and gripped something hard and angular, undoubtedly the edge of the table he'd fallen next to, while his left hand clenched around something that seemed…softer? Without thinking about that, Leander seized both handfuls and shoved downwards while finally standing upright. At that instant, the man possessing incredible strength inherited from his father felt the edge of the table crunch into splinters that his super-tough skin easily prevented from penetrating those fingers of his right hand, though the digits of his left hand closed around something much more yielding, all while a shriek of utter agony was then howled right into his left ear.

"YAAAAAAHHHHH!"

Flinching away from that unexpected scream, Leander frantically rubbed his eyes with the back of his right hand, finally getting rid of all the concrete dust, and the more-than-mortal man then looked down and to the left, directly into the contorted face of a male vampire standing stock-still next to him, this demon clearly frozen in his absolute anguish. A dumbfounded superhero now looked further down, at where his left hand was still clenched around…the crotch of the vampire's pants.

"YUCK!"

After his yelp of disgust, Leander instinctively shoved the vampire away with all the strength his mighty muscles possessed, except this only caused the vampire's seemingly weightless body to jackknife closed around the man's left hand. Now really frantic, Leander shook hard his burdened hand numerous times, as if an ordinary person was trying to get rid of a piece of Scotch tape sticking to the end of a finger. The only result for this was that the vampire now starting to desperately howl again was wildly flailed around by Leander's outstretched and shaken left hand, as effortlessly as that adhesive fragment of tape would have been, with about the same lack of success at being freed.

Not realizing his fingernails were caught in the metal fly of the demon's trousers, a rapidly-panicking Leander now hastily swept his left arm away with all his power in a horizontal arc, which culminated for the vampire still stuck to the superhero's grip in a tremendous, head-on collision with another vampire who was in the middle of a pounce towards the big guy dressed in black and currently involved in a really weird struggle with that other undead blood-drinker.

_CRUNCH!_

Now it was Leander's turn to freeze in sheer astonishment, as both vampires' skulls shattered, with enough damage done to destroy their brains and turn the demons into dust. Ignoring the fall of ashes while blinking down at where his left hand was still clenched in a fist, the man cautiously straightened out his fingers, and he promptly felt better at seeing these digits perfectly fine, without anything disgusting clinging to them. His good mood lasted only a few seconds, as Leander now looked up to stare right at the scaly chin of something that had managed to get close without him noticing, a being that looked like the unholy combination of a gorilla having red fur and a bulldozer with fangs. Hastily tilting his head back to look further up into the glowing-yellow eyes of this unearthly creature, a horrified Leander now heard from nine feet of walking doom a growling challenge for the son of Mr. Might and The Mermaid.

"T'Kush kill! T'Kush devour entrails of foe! T'Kush keep reproductive organs away from bad touch of sissy man!"

Promptly backing away from his new enemy, Leander quickly put up his hands in a can't-we-all-be-friends gesture, and he nervously protested, "Look, that was totally an accident, and I'm really sorry about it! How about instead of us fighting, we have a nice chat about this year's Red Sox prospects- WHUP!"

That last yelp was due to a retreating Leander unknowingly stepping back into his recently-caused landing crater and at once beginning to topple backwards, with his arms being hastily flung upwards to catch his balance. At the same time, the monster who'd decided to destroy Leander now lunged forward, thrusting its hairless, scarlet head with its gaping jaws and numerous pointy teeth right at the throat of the man in black. However, Leander's right hand that was swiftly rising in its futile attempt to grab onto empty air and allow the man to remain on his feet now slammed with massive force into the underside of the demon's chin, ripping through the brute's flesh as if it were paper and easily decapitating that fiend in an inadvertent deadly punch.

The detached cranium of this mortally-wounded demon now soared in a graceful arc up and away, along the entire width of the warehouse main corridor, to land with a splat! onto the top of one of the wooden crates on the far edge of the corridor. This head bounced once, and then slowly spun around before coming to a stop, in a position facing the spot in the middle of the corridor where two bodies were now sprawled on the floor, one of these forms being a black-clad figure now distastefully wiping his right hand against the concrete ground, and next to him there was an unmoving demonic body lying on its stomach. In the remaining seconds of its existence, just before it turned into goo, a separated head had time for one last thought: *T'Kush say, "Huh?"*

As he finished wiping clean his hand, a prone Leander glanced over at where the headless body lying next to him was horribly dissolving, causing the man to shudder in revulsion and then he rolled away, getting up on his hands and knees and crawling forward, to reach upwards with his right hand to grab the short side of the far end of the massive rectangular table in the middle of the warehouse. Lifting his upper body at the same time he shoved downwards against the table with all his superhuman strength, Leander now accidentally performed the classic example of a fulcrum, as the entire table now flipped upwards and over the costumed hero's head, to then descend twenty feet behind the extremely embarrassed man knowing he'd blundered yet again, while cringingly listening to the deafening BOOM! of the table's landing.

Carefully getting to his feet, Leander sheepishly turned around, and his mouth then fell open in sheer awe at seeing the table currently resting upside-down upon several demons that had just been crushed by this enormous piece of furniture, right in the middle of the course of their attack upon this unsuspecting superhero.

"Uh, sorry?" tentatively offered Leander, just in case there were any survivors who could hear his apology. It was actually a nice thought, one that was strangely fitting from somebody gifted with a genuinely kind nature plus an amazing lack of coordination that approached a near-godlike level of clumsiness. Yes, indeed, a very considerate expression of regret, even if right now, it was totally pointless, as glumly acknowledged by Awkwardman.


	5. Chapter 5

During the course of the events in the last chapter, William King had kept on firing his arrows at his demonic targets running around on the warehouse floor. He basically ignored all else happening below: the flying objects, screams of pain, angry yelling, and other sounds of the major destruction of property that were all too common in the vicinity of Leander Brent, especially when that incredibly clumsy man walked outside his home early in the day to pick up the morning newspaper lying on his front driveway.

Just after releasing another shaft, the archer had other things suddenly calling for his attention, such as the catwalk beginning to shudder and shake, swaying on its wire cables running from the upper railings to the warehouse roof beams above. Snapping his head around, William instantly understood he was in big trouble, as the vampire that had just jumped onto the catwalk, from either climbing up the stacks of crates below or stepping onto the far end of this walkway, now started its rush towards the bowman, with that sprinting monster's outstretched talons and gleaming fangs about to end the life of the son of The Bowman and an unidentified one-night stand. (William loved his dad, honestly, but the fact was the old man just couldn't handle his liquor, as proved by his vague recollection of a liaison involving some woman with really great tits and a case of Scotch that had nine months later resulted in a baby in a basket being left on the doorstep of that famous semi-alcoholic superhero. Who, for once in his life, had a really good reason for needing a drink on that day.)

William analyzed his options in a fraction of a second, and after realizing there was no time for him to draw and fire another arrow at that monster coming at him, or run away on the catwalk, he made the only possible decision that had the faintest chance of him surviving. The man immediately dove head-first over the railing, starting his descent down to the hard floor thirty feet below.

Skidding to a stop at where his prey had just been standing before that human had escaped in his suicidal leap, the vampire furiously snarled, until his mood abruptly changed into an evil grin, as a sudden happy thought now struck a former construction worker in his early thirties who had been working overtime past dusk at a Sunnydale construction site until he'd experienced a fatal accident which had been written on the autopsy report as presumably "a nailgun mishap to the throat." Smirking, the vampire in his flannel shirt, jeans, and heavy boots quickly looked over the railing, peering down while expecting to find the broken body of that fleeing guy lying there, with his ridiculous bow and arrows smashed against the floor.

He didn't see anyone at all on the bare, flat, concrete ground. Just as a look of utter bafflement appeared on the vampire's game face, that demon then felt the entire catwalk beginning to strongly shake, all due to someone else's actions this time.

The catwalk was composed of two upper railings of connected steel pipes a few inches wide over wire-mesh screens on the sides going down to short wooden planks laid over a pair of lower pipes mirroring the railings above. The bottom rails supporting the lumber had vertical metal struts running diagonally to the main weight-bearing pipe rail that made up the base of the V-shaped underside of the catwalk. At that exact moment, William King was right in the middle of fearfully doing something extremely dangerous that he would have ordinarily been quite willing to pass up the opportunity to perform, thank you very much.

Still, once he'd jumped off the catwalk and started falling, the archer had curved his body into an upside-down 'C', desperately reaching out with his right hand at his salvation under the walkway while still gripping his bow in his other hand. The man had barely managed to grab hold of the main bottom rail, curling up his wrist to get his palm and fingers wrapped around the opposite and top sides of the pipe in a critical overhand grip, just as the rest of himself fell past that rail, with the full weight of his body abruptly borne solely by his right hand.

Gritting his teeth against the sudden agony in his right wrist, William nevertheless started applying more speed in his gymnastic move known as a single-handed back giant, swinging back his legs to increase his speed and get more lift upwards, while the man also tilted back his head to catch a quick glance through the gaps in the wood planks of the catwalk, as the pair of boots there now began to turn around.

As the puzzled vampire now facing the other side of the catwalk took a step forward to move over there, an ascending William King was then at the correct angle to thankfully let go of his right grip on the pipe, immediately spinning on the axis of his hips while still rising in the air, to keep his head and upper torso from smashing against the bottom of the catwalk, while also simultaneously propelling forward his legs held together, to catch unaware the vampire standing there totally by surprise, unable to react in time to the heels of a pair of yellow boots hurtling with immense speed right at the demon's face.

William both heard and felt the CRUNCH! of the vampire's features caving in, right before that demon's body was thrown back against the far catwalk railing. Thankfully knowing he had the advantage now, the archer, whose body had stopped short in mid-air from the collision, slapped down his right arm to grab the top of the railing and yanked himself back onto the safety of the catwalk once more, bringing down his feet to land in a crouch on the middle of the wooden planks of the walkway. Right next to the groaning vampire now sprawled on his back and beginning to recover from his injuries.

Nearly nose-to-squashed-nose with this demon, a horrified William now hastily pulled out another arrow from his quiver, to make the instant assessment that he was too close to the monster to use his bow to shoot the arrow. Instead, the bowman just slammed down his right hand still gripping the arrow, to simply plunge the shaft right into the center of the fiend's chest, with the usual consequences.

Reeling back up on his feet, the archer went into a paroxysm of coughing and spluttering, trying to get rid of the vampire dust he'd just inhaled. Frantically wiping his face, William King suddenly froze, as a horrible thought now occurred to him.

"Oh, my sainted aunt! I've never smoked a single cigarette in my entire life, but now I'm sure to develop a new and absolutely virulent type of lung cancer that my doctors will be happy enough to name it after me once I die a dreadful death! All because I breathed in that vile stuff! Why, why, oh why does this kind of thing always happen to me?" moaned the superhero with the code name of White Feather.


	6. Chapter 6

Standing there in the warehouse corridor in his purple costume, Myron Victor was quick to seize the opportunity given to him by Leander's noisy entrance through the skylight and that man's subsequent impact face-first onto the concrete floor. As the pair of vampires about to attack him instead jerked their heads around to stare in shock at where the billowing dust cloud showed where a small crater had just been created inside the warehouse, Myron used this distraction to reach with his right hand behind his back and then upwards inside his rear cape, swiftly pulling something free and then bringing it equally rapidly in front of him, to open the top of the good-sized sack that had been concealed there, containing his weapons for the coming battle with his opponents and any other fiendish foes who dared to follow after those soon-to-be-defeated blood-drinking demons.

Myron had more than enough cause for his confidence in the imminent clash, as that man in the jester's costume now pulled out from the sack the proper weapon for this exact moment. After all, everybody knew the villain's defeat was always nigh when Batman reached into his utility belt or when James Bond put a casual hand into a tuxedo pocket, just like right now, when…Merryman fearlessly cocked and aimed his full seltzer bottle taken from his Bag O' Fun.

The flicker of motion caused by that action made Ron and Chuck turn their heads back, just in time for both of the vampires to realize exactly what was being pointed at them, which also contributed to their sheer disbelief that allowed a priceless moment of surprise for Merryman to squeeze the handle of his comedy prop, sending a thick stream of water from the plastic bottle directly into the face of the vampire on the right, which happened to be Ron. So, that vampire was the first to be destroyed.

As his face dissolved under the sprayed holy water jetting from the seltzer bottle, Ron didn't even have time to scream before his brain melted, causing the familiar body-shaped ash cloud that meant yet another vampire had been obliterated on the Hellmouth. The stream of blessed liquid punched through the top of this cloud for an instant, until the flow of water now curved to the left when Merryman promptly shifted his aim at the other vampire.

Unfortunately, Chuck finally had enough time to react, which meant that demon abruptly ducked, causing all of the water totally fatal for him to harmlessly pass over his head. While still in a crouch, the terrified vampire then took to his heels, dashing off further down the warehouse corridor, bent over in his escape, with pumping arms and pounding legs frantically working away. An irked Merryman, seeing his other foe getting away scot-free, now thrust out at full arm's-length his weapon and he almost crushed the spraying handle in his grip, trying to send out the water far away enough to hit the fleeing vampire. Alas, at that moment, the seltzer bottle ran out of liquid, with only a last spurt of holy water sent soaring through the air, to strike with a glancing splash the closest target the stooping demon was presenting in his panicky dash.

"YEEEEOOOWWW!" screamed Chuck, as the seat of his pants started to smolder. Trailing a stream of smoke from his rear, the burned demon picked up his pace, nearly catching up with his fearless leader currently also headed down the warehouse corridor at that blond vampire's own flat-out sprint.

A few seconds ago, Spike had been incredulously observing how everything had abruptly gone pear-shaped, with those dressed-up blokes dropping in without a by-your-leave and basically behaving in such an impolite manner, spoiling how hard he'd worked in setting up his meeting here to present such a sure-fire plan for finally killing Buffy Summers and the rest of those stupid Scoobies. Honestly, it was enough to make a grown vampire cry.

Still, on the other hand… It was actually possible he could snatch victory from the jaws of defeat, if Spike now got personally involved in the carnage currently rampaging throughout the warehouse, by rallying his forces to lead by example, showing supreme bravery to those witnessing his feats of valor, and cementing the loyalties of the rest of the remaining demons over the vanquished bodies of his enemies. Taking a quick moment to mull over that delightful prospect, Spike was then distracted by watching how what's-his-name got turned into dust in perhaps the most ridiculous death that vampire had ever seen, and instead instantly decided in his mind: *SOD THAT! Time to leg it, mate!*

Putting this proposal into immediate action, Spike spun and grimly started his urgent sprint down the corridor, doing his utmost to break his personal speed record, his blurring feet leaving scorched rubber on the warehouse floor, as that vampire ignored the sudden scream of agony coming from behind him. *Whatever that is, it's their own bleedin' problem.*

Glowering after the pair of vampires disappearing down the corridor, Merryman suddenly had his sour face change into a happy grin, as he remembered something he'd momentarily forgotten. This wide smile remained on his face, even when the man in the jester's costume glanced over to look up the corridor, to see a small group of monsters in their rush towards him, a mix of half-a-dozen or so vampires and other demons clumped up together, all with absolute murder in their eyes and their bared fangs and ready claws presented in their fervent desire for his slaughter.

Myron didn't panic the slightest at seeing this group of wrongdoers rushing at him; instead, the man calmly dropped the empty seltzer bottle, with this plastic prop bouncing away on the warehouse floor. Next, the jester thrust his right hand into the Bag O' Fun still held ready in his other hand, using his fingers inside the sack to quickly open a particular compartment of the several partitioned spaces within the cloth container. Yanking his empty hand out of the sack, Myron then unexpectedly squatted on his heels, to grab the bottom of the sack with his right hand while his left hand held open the neck of the sack, and with a smooth movement of his arms, the man now vigorously swung the sack back and forth once, just as if he were tossing a bucket of water.

Except, what came out of the sack wasn't a pailfull of liquid. Rather, it was about fifty or so marbles that instantly sprayed from the bag, bouncing, clattering, and rolling onto the warehouse floor, each and every one of these small steel balls aimed right at the stomping feet of the onrushing demons.

The enormous, green-scaled monster right at the forefront of the oncoming group had its eyes widen in shock at seeing what it was about to step on, and it tried to skid to a stop. Unfortunately, those other fiends behind their comrade, ignorant of what it was trying to avoid but still moving at their fastest sprint, now ran headlong into the slowing demon, carrying it along for that unlucky creature to then tread with both feet upon several marbles. The rest of these children's toys shot past, to also be stepped on by all of the other demons.

The resulting group pratfall would have been given an admiring round of applause by the Keystone Kops. Several of the closest wooden crates actually bounced upwards in reaction to at least a ton of unearthly flesh simultaneously crashing to the warehouse floor, with the dazed demons then sliding along this surface, right towards Myron steadily watching this as the man's right hand went back into his sack, to come out holding a nice, pointed stake, with a tiny knitted jester's cap pulled over the blunt top of this wooden weapon.

Knowing he had only a few seconds before his foes came to their senses, Myron speedily skipped among the unmoving bodies of the moaning fiends sprawled on the floor, using his stake on the first vampire he came across, with several more of these undead bastards also receiving their own identical gift stake, complete with an amusing knitted ornament on top. Myron was quite willing not to accept thanks for his presents, it was enough for that man to see how his enemies literally fell to pieces upon their receipt of his wooden offerings.

Continuing his capering among the remaining bodies of the non-vampiric demons, who were now beginning to come out of their stupor, Myron again reached into his Bag O' Fun for a really cunning weapon to use against these foes. With a definite flourish, Merryman now pulled out of the sack nothing less than what looked to be an actual custard cream pie.

As his dancing feet caused the coils of the rolled-up, excess material of the tips of his boots to bob up and down, Myron did a lively jig on his way over to the massive emerald demon who'd been the first to step on the marbles and was now kneeling on its hands and knees, shaking its head to throw off its confusion, which disorientation only continued when that demon looked up to see a classic comedy pie coming right at its face, thrown with perfect aim by the man in the purple costume.

_SPLAT!_

Not bothering to admire his triumph, Myron reached into his sack again several times to pull out a couple more pies, all laden with what was presumed to be white whipped cream, and he unhesitant launched these pies with equal skill into the features of the remaining demons. When it was all over, Merryman now stood at the edge of the corridor, his back to the wooden crates there, arms akimbo after the Bag O' Fun had been replaced under his rear cape, solemnly watching while he sang softly under his breath, "My object all sublime is to make the punishment fit the crime, the punishment fit the crime," as the demons clawing at their heads now choked to death upon the pies covering their faces, with all the white substance covering their mouths and noses turning out to be not edible whipped cream or even shaving cream, but in fact a strong, super-sticky glue.

For once, there wasn't any humor on Myron Victor's own face as he watched his now-deceased adversaries dissolve into puddles of demonic goo, merely cold acceptance of the reality that in this dimension, the bad guys were truly evil and deserved nothing but death. During the last couple of weeks that he and the others had been here on the Hellmouth, it had taken somber contemplation and discussion for all of their group to understand and recognize this. Myron himself had needed a serious scare several days after Halloween to get his act together. Though, fortunately, he'd survived that-

A clawed hand grabbed Myron around his neck and yanked him back into a cranny among the wood crates, with the vampire who'd seized him now wrapping his super-strong arms around the skinny man and snarling into this human's ear, "Laugh this off, Casper Milquetoast! After I drain you and those other stupid guys, I'm going to take my time and have a lot of fun with the delicious dessert I can smell down that corridor!"

After its sadistic taunting, the smug vampire who'd sneaked through a gap in the wood crates to surprise Myron now paused to give an evil snicker, though this demon behind the purple-clad man he was holding captive might have checked his amusement, if he could have seen how Merryman's face now contorted in ultimate rage.

In his ordinary life, Myron Victor normally presented to the world a truly dismal combination of a meek personality, his usual nebbish expression, and a puny physique, all creating the guise of such a ludicrous appearance that this had long ago forced that young man to forego trips to the beach, due to those excursions always resulting in an impatient line forming at where he was sunbathing, of a large group of ninety-eight pound weaklings, each eagerly waiting for their turn to kick sand into Myron's face.

Myron's resigned acceptance of his physical façade had carried over to his dutiful superhero life in continuing the family traditions of battling crime, performing death-defying endeavors in protecting the innocent, and dressing with their underwear over their clothes. Frankly, he'd been far happier in his civilian identify as a CPA.

The only reason he'd kept going out in public in a purple unitard while leading the others of their superhero team was that they were the only friends Myron ever had who totally understood him. Equally important, they all liked and respected him. He'd known them all his life, and just like him, they'd shared the unique upbringing of being the children of famous superhuman champions, most of who'd expected far much more from their offspring than these progeny had ever demonstrated in their inept heroics.

All of the costumed adventurers, Myron included, knew full well how ridiculous they appeared to everyone, and this only caused the members of those bungling band of brothers (and one other) to draw even closer together. This led to something which nobody had expected: that when one or more of their own were endangered during any conflict, they would instantly surpass themselves, to finally achieve the full potential of their superhero inheritance, and bring down all those evildoers who had dared threaten their family.

Hearing what the vampire holding him captive had promised, Myron Victor, aka Merryman, now became the equivalent of a human wolverine (small 'w', people).

The furious man in the purple costume at once snapped forward his head, to then just as quickly jerk this back as hard as he could, causing the bells dangling from the leather strips on his jester's cap to whip through the air, with the vampire still holding onto Myron being hit right in the face by several one-ounce chunks of metal, of which a single bell managed a direct strike on the demon's left eyeball.

"AAAIIIII!" howled the vampire, relaxing his grip for a split second, which meant the magenta-clad man's plan was working, as that scrawny superhero then made his next move. It was true that Myron didn't have a scrap of excess flesh anywhere on his skinny body, yet it was equally true that person was the son of Lady Liberty, and he'd partially inherited his mother's superhuman strength, enough to give him lean muscles possessing the toughness of steel cables. Myron now wrenched his entire body to the right during the vampire's momentarily loosening his grip, and he succeeded in his purpose. Which wasn't to escape; Myron wasn't strong enough for that, but the superhero did manage to twist his body inside the vampire's clutching arms, enough to give the jester room to accomplish his next step.

Myron's father, the martial artist and world's greatest detective known as The Patriot, had been more accepting of his son's body limitations while training that novice superhero for most of the young man's early life. Rather than developing pure strength alone, The Patriot had encouraged Myron to work on his speed and to learn specialized combat styles that were best suited for someone who'd probably never be able to overpower anyone by his fists alone. Feet, however, were something entirely different.

When he'd shown actual talent during his new martial arts lessons, Myron had willingly buckled down and that student had eventually become a master of savate, the French kickboxing method of close-quarter brawling. Combining this with Myron's achievement of also developing into an expert contortionist while possessing a few dirty tricks a proud father had installed in his son's costume, in the next few seconds, Merryman showed the vampire why that demon really should have kept his mouth shut.

Inside his boots, Myron arched and twisted his left foot into a strange configuration, sending a signal read by sensors along the inner part of his footwear. At once, the curly tips of his purple boots straightened themselves, snapping down to extend the length of Myron's shoes at least another fourteen inches, and also pushing out from inside the leather of the now unrolled extensions the formerly unnoticed metal edges and tips, with these being razor-sharp and having a needle point for both weapons.

Without bothering to look down, Myron then savagely kicked upwards and back his held-straight left leg much further than virtually any other human could do so, with the joints and connective tissue of his left hip easily stretching, so that this flexible limb finished its swing with Myron's left knee touching his chest under his left collarbone, and the sole of that boot perfectly horizontal as it passed by his left ear on its way to its target. Since part of Merryman's daily training involved kicking off pennies laid flat on both shoulders while blindfolded, it was no surprise that his boot-blade hit directly what Myron had been aiming for.

The very last thing seen by the vampire's left eye that had just recovered from being struck by Merryman's bell was an approaching knife coming too fast for this demon to dodge, as that weapon now punctured the eyeball, to then lodge deeply into the walking corpse's brain and causing enough damage that the magic holding together the deceased body dissipated, creating the familiar dust cloud.

Myron smoothly pulled back and brought down his left leg, spinning on his right heel, as he then came to an abrupt halt, warily regarding the dust drifting to the floor that had been his recent captor. Shifting his gaze further on into the cranny that he'd been pulled inside, Merryman stood there, ready for further combat, unconsciously twitching his boots from side to side that swept across the warehouse floor his edged weapons protruding from his magenta footwear. However, a few moments later, the man gradually relaxed, as he realized there'd been only one vampire, and that bastard had been taken care of. Making a mental note to thoroughly berate himself later for being taken by surprise, Myron turned and glided out of the crevice among the crates, still in a dangerous mood and more than willing to take his irritation out upon the nearest enemies.

To Merryman's mild regret, there wasn't the slightest sign of any further conflict. Instead, while looking up the corridor, Myron saw only Awkwardman and White Feather walking together, both having the casual gait of people who were quite sure their battle was over and won. The pair of approaching superheroes now noticed their friend, with the mammoth man in black giving Myron a happy wave, and with the bowman sending a nod of acknowledgement, despite that yellow-clad man also having a worried look on his face over his right thumb being desperately sucked upon in his mouth.

As Myron started to head towards his buddies, about to ask William what the hell he was doing, the jester now simultaneously saw his fellow champions' faces change into surprise at the exact moment Merryman then heard a loud bellow coming from behind, further down the corridor. Whirling around, Myron Victor now saw the one opponent he'd never been able to defeat rushing towards him, and that costumed man could do nothing but brace himself for what was surely going to happen next.


	7. Chapter 7

Spike handily dodged under the grabbing arm, with the painted-pink fingernails at the end of this limb just brushing through his stiffened blond hair in their unsuccessful clutch, a frustrated squeal being thrown after the still-accelerating vampire heading in his desperate sprint straight towards the closed warehouse door. Putting his arms over his head and leaning forward just before he hit, Spike smashed through the wood panel in a cloud of flying and potentially fatal splinters. While still running through the alley behind the structure he'd just left, Spike started brushing off the pieces of the door still clinging to his clothing and hair, beginning to feel an actual sense of relief over his evidently successful escape.

*That last bloke came bloody close, though,* chided the frowning vampire to himself. As he continued down the alley at a fast pace while alertly listening for any sign of pursuers, Spike tried to recall exactly who'd he just gotten away from. He hadn't been paying all that much attention since he'd been moving so fast and hadn't gotten much more than an extremely quick glance out of the corner of his eye of somebody who'd been a lot bigger than the vampire, but nothing more than that. It certainly hadn't been the Slayer at all, and you could lay a deep sea diver on that, Spike reflected.

Slowing down to a fast walk, the vampire crossed a street, shooting wary glances up and down this avenue even though the road was completely deserted at this time of the night. Spike entered another alley ahead, now beginning to glumly contemplate the failure of all his plans. *Bugger it, I'll have to lay low for a while until people forget how it became a complete shambles, with those poofters going aggro and chopping up all that cannon-fodder. Well, for the rest of tonight, it's me for my crypt and enough bottles of the creature until I'm as drunk as a lord. Next, I'm going to find somebody to murder, anybody at all, just so's they scream loud enough to cheer me up.*

Nodding in satisfaction over the pleasing prospect of a good bender and then an evening's atrocity, Spike was in a happier mood as he now began to stroll through the alleyway, until a frown once more passed over his face, at the sudden vague recollection of something that didn't seem to make any sense whatsoever.

*Why am I thinking of something so daft as a white powder puff, those things women daub on their faces?*

Several minutes earlier, before Spike the vampire became involved in contemplating his truly bizarre and unsettling memory, another blood-drinking demon in the middle of his terrified flight had been looking over his shoulder for signs of anybody pursuing him, particularly that scary jester with his deadly seltzer bottle. Still running at his top speed, the fleeing vampire known as Chuck Tell to his recently-dusted fellow fiend now felt a flicker of relief at seeing nobody after him, and he then turned his head to look right into the looming obstacle he was about to collide with in the middle of the warehouse corridor.

With a bone-crunching _THUD!_, Chuck hit this red-clad, seven-foot-tall obstruction dead on, and in the very next instant of being nearly rendered unconscious from the force of his collision, the rebounding vampire dazedly reached out with his clutching hands, trying feebly to keep from toppling backwards by holding onto whatever he could grip of the entity who hadn't budged an inch from their impact. This lack of motion allowed a numb Chuck to successfully grab onto something that was both firm and soft in the clutch of the vampire's hands which now squeezed desperately in their efforts to keep the demon still in his state of stupor onto his feet.

After several more moments, during which a slowly-recovering Chuck leaned forward to rest his forehead against the vertical surface of whatever he was still holding onto with a very firm grip, the vampire's blurred gaze began to clear up, and he began at last to take some notice of his surroundings. Which included in his downward gaze at this moment, a white horizontal strip of material with two metal letters of 'DB' set in the center of this band. Looking further down, a bewildered Chuck noted the bottom part of a scarlet skin-tight leotard from which descended a pair of long, bare, and very muscular legs ending in dainty red slippers with flared tops. Despite the increasing horrible realization now beginning to gradually present itself inside the vampire's mind, Chuck still couldn't prevent himself from checking out the remainder of whatever he was leaning against.

Slowly lifting his head, the vampire's gaze traveled up the torso covered by the rest of the scarlet leotard all the way up to the neck, the firm chin, the lips drawn back in a furious snarl with their passion-red lipstick, a perky snub nose, two icy blue eyes, plucked eyebrows lowered savagely, long blond hair, and a hairclip on the top of this head from which protruded…two pink bunny ears?

Inside the vampire's appalled mind, a suggestion sneaked into there and gloomily cleared its throat: *You might want to look back down.*

Unable to disobey this advice, Chuck unwillingly dropped his eyes, past the other orbs now showing actual homicidal gleams in their depths and pure-white teeth that were audibly grinding in sheer rage, downward to where the unsteady vampire was still resolutely clutching his handgrips to keep himself from falling, robustly squishing the size 40DD breasts that were overflowing in the demon's grasp.

Chuck's demonic spirit ultimately returned to hell, of course, but not before being preceded by that vampire's body after it had been punched downwards through the three feet of reinforced concrete that consisted of the warehouse floor, the basement space, the additional yard of identical construction material of the base for that level, the sub-basement space, a double layer of yet more concrete even further strongly reinforced, since this had to support the entire warehouse, and lastly, twenty feet of bedrock. After which all that, Chuck the vampire finally gave up the ghost and his body puffed into ashes, much to his great relief, since he'd been all too aware of every bit of agony during his swift descent.

Recovering from slamming her clenched fist onto the top of that jerk's skull, the super-strong woman in the red costume glared at the newly-created hole in the warehouse floor, with bubbling fury still in her brain, and her entire body also trembling with rage, causing the white fleece ball attached to the lower back of her leotard to jiggle along during her all-over shudder of a voluptuous body that would've caused any straight male over the age of puberty to have a minor myocardial infarction.

Athena Tremor HATED being groped.

Abruptly remembering what she was supposed to be doing, the daughter of Princess Power hastily glanced up along the warehouse corridor, but she didn't see anybody else there besides her other teammates taking care of their own opponents. Nobody else seemed to be trying to escape past the woman, except for…

*Ooops.*

Charmingly blushing over her little mistake, Athena then gave a short, guilty sigh, and she reached for her monogrammed belt buckle, pulling the connected initials of her superhero name off her white belt, with a thin electrical cable reeling itself from her walkie-talkie. Lifting these metal letters up to her mouth, Athena tapped the communicator's call switches, and spoke, "Herman, are you there?"

A moment later, the young man in the green blimp still several hundred feet above the warehouse spoke into his own communicator built into his helmet. "Yeah, Athena, how's things going down there?"

The tall blonde woman holding her radio had a familiar flash of puzzlement pass over her features, as she asked in her clear contralto, "How'd you know it was me?"

Far up in the sky, a pair of eyes were rolled with exasperation. Herman loved Athena like a sister, which she practically was since he'd known her forever, both growing up together as toddlers, and he and the others were loved equally fiercely by the woman who considered them her own siblings. Still, it had to be admitted that woman wasn't the sharpest pencil in the box. In a patient voice, Herman answered, "Who else would it be? Anyway, why'd you call me?"

"Oh," cheerfully replied someone with a truly poor memory and a tendency to be distracted by small, sparkly things. "That fangy guy, uh, Mike or Tike, he got away, ran out the door. Boy, was he fast!"

"Which way did he go?" blurted out an alarmed Herman.

"Errrrr…"

Sighing, Herman mentally chided himself for asking Athena about something so complicated as directions. It was hard enough for her to remember about 'up' and 'down', so the son of Captain Swift soothingly spoke, "Never mind, honey, I'll look for him. Actually, it'll be a relief to get this thing off me, anyway. You go back to your job as a lookout, okay?"

"Okay!" brightly chirped the female voice in his headphones. "I got one of the creeps who totally deserved what I did to him, someone who didn't have the slightest idea on how to behave!"

"Great," gulped Herman, making a silent vow to never ask a woman who could bench-press a full cement truck about exactly what she'd done to her monstrous adversary. She was bad enough in her normal thoughtless displays of her super-strength that had hospitalized every member of their superhero group at one time or another. True, those had usually been short stays in the medical facilities, and she'd always been really, really sorry. Honest! "This is Herman signing off, Athena."

"Ten…" The woman looked blankly at her communicator as she struggled over the next number, until she sheepishly shrugged and then turned off the radio, replacing it back on her belt. Looking up at a flicker of motion seen at the top of her vision, Athena saw William King in his yellow costume leaping, cartwheeling, and performing other gymnastics feats along the summits of the stacks of wooden crates. Coming to a halt to peer around the entire warehouse, the man now had a satisfied look appear on his face, as he then glanced along the main corridor, to clearly notice her at the far end of this passageway. William waved at Athena, and then the superhero held up his right hand at head level, with his clenched fist then twirling around in several circles, to next pump his arm up and down a few more times.

Athena waved back, which resulted in William starting to forward somersault down the stack of crates in smooth flips of his body, as the woman took off her attention from her friend to concentrate of something important: what exactly had that man been signaling to her?

*Uh, I don't think he was pretending to be a cowboy lassoing a steer. It doesn't make sense either for him to demonstrate how to make a pizza with one hand, so, let's see… Oh, goody! He was saying that it's all finished, everything's fine, and come on over, Red Rover!*

Beaming, Athena started heading up the corridor, until she got close enough to see Leander and William together and walking towards herself. In the next second, Myron came out from a cranny in the wooden crates at the side of the corridor, and the woman in the red costume now felt an explosion of delight erupt in her brain. Throwing her arms open and starting to rush towards the man in the jester's costume, Dumb Bunny shouted at the top of her impressive lungs, "POOKIE-BEAR! COME TO MAMA!"

Myron Victor whirled around to see Athena Tremor, his fiancée, having an expression of adoration for her boyfriend on her features while the seven-foot, three-hundred-forty-pound female came on in the unstoppable haste of a loving avalanche (and about to do the same amount of damage to someone a third her size). Unconsciously, the sensors in Merryman's boots reacted to the minuscule shifts in the man's foot muscles, and the jester's shoes shifted from being deadly weapons to return into being his previous ridiculous footwear, with the tips of the excess material hastily rolling back up and nervously bouncing in their coils.

A minute earlier, once he'd switched off his communicator, Herman Cramer had started examining the landscape below with his keen vision that was the equivalent of an hawk's eyesight, one of the benefits of his mutanthood. He was above the east side of the warehouse, so when he looked down, he could easily see nobody had left by that door, and when that superhero glanced from side to side to check on the north and south areas, he also found nothing amiss there in those regions around the warehouse. Lifting his gaze to peer over and past the warehouse to the west, a flicker of motion caught Herman's eye. Narrowing these orbs, the chubby young man peered intently and saw…a very familiar patch of pale yellow hair bobbling along in an alley.

A truly evil grin slowly spread over Herman's features, and the man then tensed several specific muscles throughout his enormous body that wasn't just inside the airship. It WAS the airship, covered in his green, stretchable costume, and at the back of this floating craft, flaps at the rear of his attire now peeled away. Opening his mouth to belch out more of the buoyant gas that was supporting him in mid-air, created by unique organs inside his body, Herman commanded other specialized body parts to do their work, and he felt the rumbling inside his massive stomach as this commenced.

From the rear of the flying man, a stream of greenish vapor billowed, shortly becoming swifter and thicker, as more power was demanded to push the aircraft even faster through the skies. Combined with Herman's abrupt descent due to his releasing some buoyancy, this meant the man known in the superhero community as The Blimp now started traveling downwards, in an actual swoop through the air on his way to confront Spike the vampire.

A couple of seconds later, as he was passing through where the alley had widened into a small lot, this demon incredulously sniffed in front of himself, and then he muttered, "Blimey, who farted, a soddin' elephant?"

Also hearing the sounds of something rushing through the air, Spike came to a dead stop, and he warily looked around, but the fiend didn't see anything in the alley that was a sign at all of potential danger. It never occurred for Spike to look up.

About fifty feet directly above, The Blimp now performed a graceful mid-air loop, giving a grateful sigh as his burden _finally _came off, to start its drop right at the unaware vampire in the alley nervously shifting on his feet, somehow sensing things weren't on the up-and-up in Sunnydale for him at this exact moment. A gleeful grin on his face, Herman followed up on his sigh by now yelling downwards, "YOO, HOO, SPIKEY-WIKEY!"

Snapping back his head to stare upwards in disbelief at where that thunderous voice had just insulted him, Spike instantly identified what was hurtling towards him, but the sheer shock of seeing this, plus what had been printed in great big letters at the top of this object currently reaching terminal speed kept the vampire frozen for a fatal moment.

William the Bloody, a vicious century-old monster, formerly part of the Scourge of Europe that had terrified this continent, now thought, *Why the bleedin' hell would anybody write THIS END UP at the bottom of a two-ton anvil?* with this reflection being the very last thing to pass through the head of Spike the vampire.

Aside from the anvil, of course.


	8. Chapter 8

Smirking, Awkwardman stood there in the warehouse corridor and gleefully watched how Dumb Bunny was clasping Merryman to her chest, with the superheroine humming and swaying in pleasure, as that immobilized jester's dangling limbs rocked to and fro, his purple boots suspended well over a foot from the floor and the man's face buried in the scarlet-clad woman's cleavage. An instant later, a somewhat dirty thumb was thrust right under Leander's nose, accompanied by William's anxious inquiry, "Do you think this is getting infected?"

With a grimace of disgust, the man in his midnight-black costume jerked his head back, and glowered at White Feather's panicked expression as that archer stood by the other superhero. "Who cares? If you want, maybe we should amputate it as high up as necessary. I think your neck would be a good place to start."

Now it was William's turn to glower at his friend, huffily speaking, "Listen, we're right in the middle of some fairly unique pathogens, considering how many demons got killed here! I have a good excuse for worrying about my health!"

Leander gritted, "You have a splinter in your thumb! It's not exactly a good reason to contact the Mayo Clinic and request a consultation!"

"They won't even take my calls anymore," grumbled William. He looked over at where Dumb Bunny and Merryman were still in their embrace, and a rare pleased expression intermingled with alarm appeared on White Feather's features. "It's nice to see them like that, but is Myron still breathing?"

Awkwardman tilted his head and used his superhuman hearing to check for the answer to his friend's question, amusedly chuckling, "Yep, the guy's got amazing lung capacity. Probably comes from sinking to the bottom of his dad's pool every time when we had our swimming parties there."

William nodded, nostalgically adding, "It was kind of strange to see him walking around there, looking up at us splashing each other. You always had to dive down to drag him out."

Leander grinned. "I have to admit, it was fairly weird that he spent just as much time underwater as I did there, with me being the water-breather and all. Well, I guess we better finish up things. Hey, guys!" called the massive man with the white letter 'A' on his chest. After seeing no response from the embracing couple, another, louder call of "HEY, GUYS!" also failed to change this. Sharing an exasperated glance with William, the pair of superheroes simultaneously drew in a breath for a combined bellow, until this was preempted by someone else's equally noisy announcement of their presence.

"UUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRPPPPPPPPP!"

The Blimp floated down through the hole in the building skylight, belching vigorously to release his inner buoyant gases, while also pulling in his elastic skin, until by the time Herman had landed on the warehouse floor, the man was his normal, human-shaped, extra-large size, as the green-clad man beamed at his friends standing in the corridor. Bouncing along in his exuberant waddle towards them all, the plump young man lifted both beefy thumbs up in a happy gesture that was accompanied by him whooping, "I got him, everyone! The world's a much better place now without that bleached blond vampire and- Oh, get a room." Herman Cramer broke off his pleased declaration to glower at where Athena had casually lifted Myron out of that portion of her chest between her breasts, to then rain numerous smacking kisses upon the undersized man's face.

Leander looked at Herman coming up to stand by his other side from William, with Awkwardman then eagerly asking, "It was really worth all the trouble? I had no idea how hard it was to get a good-sized anvil in a dimension where there's no Acme Company."

The Blimp had his cheerful mood promptly return, particularly as Myron and Athena finally stopped kissing and paid attention to him, though she still held her boyfriend in her arms without the slightest strain as the pair of engaged people stared at the stout young man, with a somewhat unfocused look now on Merryman's lipstick-stained features. Herman jovially rumbled, "The thing landed right on him like it had eyes. My only regret is that I couldn't take pictures."

The entire superhero team had a good laugh about that, until only chuckles were coming from most of the group. It was the leader of the team who became serious first, with Merryman addressing his girlfriend, "Uh, honeybuns, could you please put me down? Thanks." That last came when Athena reluctantly deposited Myron onto the warehouse floor. Pulling out a purple handkerchief from his costume, the jester absently scrubbed hard at his face, and when finished, he tucked away this cloth square. Looking around his comrades, Merryman then cleared his throat and steadily said, "Well, guys, we've accomplished our mission tonight, and now we have to go."

Resigned expressions now appeared on the features of the other three males, with only Athena actually looking obstinate. The woman had a genuine note of entreaty in her voice as she then appealed, "Do we really need to, Myron? I…I…miss you so much when we can't be together!" A sniffle and a sparkling tear were both produced by the beautiful young woman as she dolefully regarded the man she loved.

Myron himself looked equally sad when he stepped closer to his fiancée and gave her a strong hug around her waist, which was as far up her body that he could comfortably reach. Athena bent down and gave the jester a desperate embrace that made Leander, William, and Herman wince in nervous expectation, until they released the breaths they'd been holding, when an uninjured Myron gently placed his cheek against the young woman's own tear-stained face. Fortunately, Athena's half-sister, the detective Angel O'Day, who had once suggested that her sibling could unconsciously control her super-strength enough to keep someone she romantically loved from being harmed by her might, had indeed proven to again be correct in her speculation, even in another dimension entirely.

Speaking softly into the pleading face of the person he felt absolute devotion for, Myron Victor once more showed he was a true hero in that he could bear whatever pain was necessary in order to do what was right, as he gently reminded Athena Tremor, "We're guests here, darling. This isn't our home or our dimension, and as long as we're on the Hellmouth, we have to be strong and help others. Just as we agreed, you and I and the rest of the guys will lend a hand when we're needed, and in return, as was sworn to us, they'll do their best to get us back to our home dimension." After those words, the man tilted his head forward to caringly touch his forehead against that same part of the woman's skull, with both of the lovers tenderly gazing into each others' eyes.

Leander now felt his own eyes actually moisten, while from both sides of himself that man heard two simultaneous sniffles, as his buddies got caught up in the moment. Athena and Myron's attention managed to become distracted by that unusual sound, as they blinked at each other over hearing this, while then gently releasing each other from their embrace, to stand there side by side and stare at the others wiping their eyes and sending sheepish glances back at the pair and also at each other. Myron looked up at Athena, the bells of his jester's cap faintly clinking at this motion, and he managed a shadow of a smile at the holder of his heart. Her own smile to him was equally feeble, but it was there, along with a decisive glint slowly appearing in her eyes. Once more, Myron knew he utterly loved this incredible woman, and he again became absolutely determined to prove himself worthy of her, just as he would do so the rest of their lives together.

Standing by Dumb Bunny, as his left hand reached out to grasp her right hand, Merryman put his own right hand out horizontally at waist level, palm down, arm fully outstretched, and waited for what the purple-clad man proudly knew would happen next. Slowly and carefully, the scarlet-clad woman placed her left hand upon the hand patiently held there. The green-clad man was next, as The Blimp put his right hand on top of the woman's hand. Gingerly keeping his right thumb out of the way, the yellow-clad archer known as White Feather placed his right hand onto a plump hand. Lastly, his face a mask of strain as the black-clad man battled with every fiber of his being the life-long clumsiness he was prone to, but not this time, absolutely not, as Awkwardman now carefully placed his right hand upon the bowman's hand.

An instant later in their circle, the quintet of true superheroes simultaneously chanted, "INFERIOR FIVE!"

A sudden flash of pure white light now lit up the interior of the warehouse, and then this illumination just as quickly faded from its point of origin, which was where the five people were standing there in their circle, with their hands stacked up on top of the ends of each others' arms, to all freeze in their positions for a moment, until Buffy Summers, Willow Rosenberg, Rupert Giles, Xander Harris, and Harmony Kendall promptly reacted in their now-normal behavior at regaining their original bodies.


	9. Chapter 9

Once they regained their original bodies, the Scooby Gang reacted in their usual ways, which they'd become accustomed to after transforming back from the Inferior Five. In no particular order:

Buffy and Willow quickly snatched their hands away from clasping the other's fingers, and they both anxiously patted themselves, all over their faces and down their bodies. Simultaneously giving sincere sighs of relief, the two girls then went on to the next step. Buffy spun away from the others, doing a few graceful dance moves and several martial arts katas along the warehouse floor, until she'd finally reassured herself that her body was once more as agile and under control as it'd been since becoming the Slayer.

Willow ignored Buffy's physical workout, to instead stand there with her eyes firmly squeezed shut, as this young woman vowed under her breath, "A salad with a glass of water for lunch tomorrow, and don't you forget it!"

Rupert Giles was also privately muttering to himself in absolute disbelief, "Good Lord, man, you did all that tonight, and your only concern now is a splinter possibly becoming a medical emergency?"

Xander and Harmony weren't paying any attention to their comrades. Instead, these teenagers had promptly grabbed each other in a tight hug, and then the pair made a determined effort to tie their tongues together in a double carrick bend knot. After several more blissful moments for their reunion, the couple now reluctantly stopped kissing and they came up for air, also ending their embrace. Though, they continued to hold hands while looking beyond at where three people across from them were presently glowering at their affectionate actions.

"It's times like this I feel really good about dumping your whole comic book collection into a bonfire after Halloween," grumbled Buffy, who'd finished her exercises to stand besides a librarian continuing to shoot his disapproving glance towards a smirking Harmony and Xander.

This young man immediately snarked back at the Slayer, "Hey, a few weeks ago, you and Wils were willing enough to go along when I suggested we dress up as a superhero team! In fact, even the G-man here grabbed right away at the chance to pay back Snyder for volunteering him, too! I remember just fine everybody agreeing to wear whatever me and Harm picked out before we left for the new costume shop in town to buy our outfits!"

"You somehow forgot to tell us until right before we needed to put on the costumes that Willow and I had to dress up as guys!" Buffy hollered, who went on to indignantly snarl, "At least you, Harmony, and Giles managed to stay the same gender!"

Clearing his throat, Giles contributed his own aggravated protest, "Truly, I wasn't too happy at that point over being an archer possessing the name of 'White Feather' and wearing a bright-yellow costume, all symbols of ultimate cowardice!"

Now standing next to Buffy, a grouchy Willow then joined the argument, which had basically been going on ever since the end of October, "Yeah! I thought we'd be the Avengers, with me as the Scarlet Witch, or Marvel Girl from the X-Men!"

Enjoying this a little too much, Xander sardonically pointed out to his fuming redhaired friend, "When we were little kids, you didn't mind reading all our comics then, even the ones Jesse and me had from the sixties. Not to mention that dancing around the bonfire and chanting 'Burn, baby, burn!' when Buffy threw my collection in there was kinda going a bit far, Wils."

"No," Willow countered sweetly, "Shoving you into the fire and roasting marshmallows over your combusting corpse would've been the teensiest overreaction. Even after being changed by Chaos magic into an overweight masculine character from probably the silliest superhero group ever created!"

An annoyed Harmony then defended her snickering boyfriend, while also reminding his attacker of something she'd managed to overlook, "Willow, be polite! Besides, I thought you liked Herman!"

Feeling a little chagrined over her recent snappishness, which had made someone else currently in her mind very uncomfortable, Willow blushed, and then she mumbled, "Well, yes, I do. I'm just mad at Xan, okay? Not _you,_ Herman."

There was a moment's pause among the small gathering there, while everyone else then discreetly checked that their new passengers in their heads since Halloween night were still there and following the group's squabble. They were, indeed. Just like the Scooby Gang became confined into the Inferior Five's minds when the superheroes transformed from the Sunnydale residents by these five humans chanting the bumbling quintet's team name when everyone was in physical contact with each other. It worked just as successfully the other way around, as seen by their recent actions after defeating Spike and his monstrous associates in the warehouse, with the Inferior Five changing back after doing the same thing into four California high school students and a British librarian.

Both groups had been unable to find out exactly why they were the only ones in Sunnydale still affected several weeks after the meddling by a Chaos mage on Halloween, though Giles had his suspicions. With seemingly no other choice except for just having to live with it for now, everybody tried their best to get along with their mental companions. Fortunately for the sanity of all there, it was soon discovered that the other entity inside the presently-existing person could withdraw deeper into their shared consciousness for a certain amount of time and shut out any exterior stimuli. Which thankfully provided a modicum of privacy for the other individual walking around in the real world.

This was found out quickly enough for Buffy and Leander, plus Willow and Herman, to prevent these four people from expiring in sheer shared embarrassment. Just because half of them were fictional comic book characters, it didn't mean the guys trapped inside a pair of young girls' bodies actually wanted to live through what these female teenagers experienced for certain parts of the day. Nor, when sufficient time had passed, for a good part of a specific week.

The Sunnydale girls themselves were more than glad to avert their awareness over some necessary actions done by these adult males, when those Inferior Five associates were out and about. Though, during a wary conversation held between Buffy and Willow, when both were absolutely _sure _their companions had mentally withdrawn, both young ladies blushingly confirmed that unlike what the comics ever showed, those guys' superhero costumes definitely possessed working zipper flies.

Trying not to think about this right now, Willow hastily cast around for something to divert her newest acquaintance's attention. Blurting out an idle notion she'd come up with several days earlier, the Jewish girl asked the others at large, "Say, has anybody noticed the fact the more absurd the plans are that our friends come up with, it's more likely they'll succeed?"

While everyone else there just stared in puzzlement at the red-haired teenager over this unexpected question, Giles simply sighed, to then comment in his driest tone, "I suspect the Chaos magic is still part of the Inferior Five, allowing them to accomplish whatever ridiculous strategy they conceive."

"About that, G-man," Xander interjected, "Myron wants to know if you've found out anything new which might help them get home."

The Englishman pulled a rueful face, both in reaction to his detested nickname, and also due to his upcoming response which was sure to be unsatisfactory for the leader of the superhero team. "I'm afraid there hasn't been any improvement for him since my last visit."

"Mr. Rayne's still drawing an absolute blank?" dubiously asked Willow. "Are you really sure he isn't faking his amnesia?"

Performing his most dejected shrug, Giles then pointed out, "During our - their - entry into the costume shop, and the ensuing total destruction-" Breaking off to momentarily glare, along with the others, at where a shamefaced Buffy was thoroughly studying the toes of her boots, her Watcher icily continued, "Ethan's concussion and accompanying minor skull fracture were easily verifiable by medical means, and my own magical scans showed those injuries clearly led to his memory loss of every part of my former friend's life back to just after his sixteenth birthday."

Throwing up his hands in absolute frustration, Giles went on to sourly add, "Besides, when I last saw him several days ago, he was performing for the hospital ward a rather good rendition of 'I'm Henery the Eighth, I Am.' I can positively assure you all, no sober British bloke will ever sing this again once he's passed his teenage years."

Hearing the last, Buffy sniggered for a few moments, before managing to control her hilarity. Perhaps due to receiving Giles' best evil look directed towards his Slayer. A somewhat straight-faced blonde now asked, "You still haven't told the Council about this?"

Her appointed Watcher firmly shook his head, reminding Buffy and all there, "Just as before, there's too much risk of Ethan being taken away from Sunnydale by them. If that happens, we'll probably never see him again. There'll be no chance of finding out if he recovers his memories about the Chaos magic and possibly being able to help send our, er, guests back to their home dimension."

Nodding, Buffy started to speak, "I guess- What?"

After interrupting herself, this young woman frowned off into the distance, her beautiful features at first scrunching up in perplexity, and then changing into growing interest. Before a polite inquiry could be made by any of the others about something which had lately become common amongst themselves; i.e., a mental conversation between the Sunnydalers and their new partners inside their heads, Buffy now bestowed a gimlet glance towards one of their company. She next mentioned, "Hey, guys, Leander said he overheard a pretty strange argument between two of the vamps here just before the big fight started. It had to do with the Mayor."

Simultaneously, Giles, Willow, and Harmony followed Buffy's piercing stare to add their own questioning gazes. Within these people's brains, William, Herman, and Athena also perked up with eager interest. The object of their scrutiny, one Xander Harris, simply stood there, while suddenly wearing a remarkably blank expression. This was well equal to any poker face presented by a 19th century riverboat gambler having just drawn the last ace to make his hand four of a kind during the biggest pot of the night.


	10. Chapter 10

The whole reason for the others' overwhelming curiosity was that the only male student in the Scooby Gang and also the leader of the Inferior Five had both flatly refused to tell anybody exactly what happened during their fight with the sorcerer masquerading as a folksy human politician who'd quietly ruled their hometown for the last century. Not even Harmony or Athena, whatever their wiles or threats, could drag out of either guy in whatever body they were inhabiting any further scraps of the story involving what went on a couple of days right after their extraordinary Halloween.

Xander (plus Myron) had been willing enough to explain to all there in the Sunnydale High library at the end of the week following October 31st about his mental guest's thorough investigation concerning the unfamiliar place where the Inferior Five had become stranded due to Chaos magic. During Merryman's intensive research regarding Xander's home, cheerfully helped along by the Sunnydale native now deep inside the purple-clad crimefighter's mind, Myron had stumbled upon something genuinely far-fetched, yet still true but totally ignored by everyone in this California city. Namely, nobody ever noticed the highest elected official of the town's government had been the same person for the last hundred years, a man named Richard Wilkins III. Or, as he'd also been known, Richard Wilkins II, and before him, just plain Richard Wilkins.

Xander himself had been unable to believe it, until Myron used their mind-to-mind communication to directly prove his discovery to the younger man's consciousness. Only then did the ultimate Sunnydale Syndrome spell collapse, allowing a dazed Xander to finally realize the truth. Unfortunately, neither of the guys sharing the same body were really sure if the other Scoobies could also be released from the spell, even if the rest of the Inferior Five were presented with the same information Myron had just discovered. Much more genuinely obvious evidence was needed about the Mayor being some kind of evil wizard or worse. After getting this, hopefully the enchantment laid over Buffy, Willow, Harmony, and Giles would also end when they and their mental companions were exposed to the true facts. Xander and Myron had then grimly agreed between themselves to keep quiet about their discovery, until they could sneak into the Mayor's office at City Hall and search for definite proof about Wilkins.

One reason why the pair of mischief-makers remained to unwilling to fully talk about their escapade was the resulting vocal eruption by their girlfriends, when the rest of the gang learned what these two had been up to recently. Harmony screamed like a fishwife at her cringing boyfriend, and later on, Athena yelled at Myron with all the power of her magnificent lungs, shattering windows throughout the entire city. The town's glaziers made a _fortune._

Anyway, after the feminine wrath had slightly subsided, a shell-shocked Xander rushed through the rest of his story. On how they'd found it surprisingly easy that night to get into the City Hall building and then inside Wilkins' office. Myron found his success a bit worrying, even though the place was devoid of the hardcore security which was the only thing capable of keeping out someone taught by perhaps the finest cat burglar in their home dimension. (Only to assist in their crimefighting activities, The Patriot declared to his doubtful son while instructing him in this novice superhero's breaking and entering lessons.) However, just before beginning their felonious investigations, the open door to the inner office they'd entered now abruptly slammed shut on its own, leaving them trapped inside the windowless room.

Right after this, a jovial voice spoke from the shadows across the back wall, "Gosh, it's an almighty shame when youthful hi-jinks turn into actual criminal activities. Why, when I was a lad, we just confined ourselves to cow-tipping and moving someone's outhouse back a few yards during moonless nights, to give their owners a real surprise the next time they had to use these."

Richard Wilkins the third/second/first/whatever now casually walked through the solid rear wall, to stand there in the room while beaming at the frozen form of the young man dressed in a tight-fitting magenta costume. In the next moment, the Mayor's eyes glowed a bright red, and every shiny tooth shown in his cheerful grin abruptly changed into needle-tipped fangs.

It was at this exact point of their story when Xander and Myron had clammed up. Which caused the fascinated others listening to them feeling really ticked off at the pair, given the fact neither would tell anyone what happened after that. Athena's annoyance was matched by her new friend, until Harmony had a sobering thought hastily shared with the superheroine, in maybe their boyfriends were feeling guilty or ashamed about the Mayor's death.

This politician's demise had indeed been acknowledged, not just among by those currently in the library who'd been affected by the Halloween events, but by the entire municipality of Sunnydale. All due to the town's newspaper breathlessly informing its readers about the discovery of the lifeless body of Richard Wilkins III in his office, when city firefighters had entered these chambers after being summoned by the building's blaring smoke alarms. There, they'd found a large fire blazing away in the wrecked room, and also the Mayor lying dead on the floor. The next day, while in the school library, Rupert Giles' suspicions were heightened by the fact no mention was made by the newspaper of just _how_ the creator of the town's Sunnydale Syndrome had perished.

Yes, the Scooby Gang finally learned the truth about the Mayor, helped along by the horrific evidence of a personal diary and several other foul magical items the considerably-battered Merryman found in the office and took with him after his fight to the death with this fiend. A subdued Xander confirmed Myron had set the fire to cover his tracks and also to make sure anything else he'd missed was destroyed. Given how just reading the first few pages of the diary bound in the skin of a sacrificed baby made Giles vomit into the desk wastebasket, the Englishman then fervently assured the others in the library that Myron had shown superb self-control in not burning down the entire City Hall and then salting the scorched earth.

After their own magical forgetfulness concerning the Mayor had ended, the others sitting around the book-filled room were even more intrigued about the total silence of Xander and Myron over their exact actions which had accomplished this feat. Now really bursting with questions, Buffy, Willow, Harmony, and Giles had their impending interrogation hastily diverted by their friend wondering out loud how this would change things in the demonic underworld in Sunnydale. Eight people (four in their chairs around the library table and four in the seated persons' heads) glowered at the young man innocently looking back at them all. Still, it was a good point, even though the others sent dark looks in unison at Xander, indicating this wasn't over. The Scoobies now held a spirited discussion in the library, aided by their newfound allies, which culminated in an agreement to work together during the coming power struggle when other demons tried to gain control of the Hellmouth.

This had indeed proven to be the case over the next several weeks, finishing in tonight's complete success at the warehouse in wiping out some of the most nefarious monsters in Sunnydale. Plus finally dusting that supreme pain in the arse known as Spike the vampire. However, during this evening's little contretemps, something had been learned by one of the good guys, about which two other young men had really preferred none of his friends would ever find out.

* * *

This might have been the reason for Xander's sudden proposal, while he nervously glanced around the warehouse. Smiling a wee bit sickly at the increasing hard stares of his friends (both physically present and those absent in body but still in attendance), Xander gabbled, "Hey, guys, what say we hit the all-night diner over on Broadway and celebrate with ice cream for everyone? It's all on me, so go wild! Yeah, Buffinator, this includes you! Wanna see if you can knock off the whole dessert menu in one visit?"

Oh, no, for once she wasn't going to be bribed with food. Not even chocolate. Giving her school friend the most threatening scowl she could manage, Buffy growled, "'Fess up, Xan! You too, Myron! What Leander told me just made me even more curious, in spite of how icky it sounded."

"Er, what exactly did Leander say, Buffy?" inquired Giles, warily peering over his glasses at this young woman.

All the others of the Scooby Gang (except for Xander dolefully looking upwards at the warehouse ceiling in his glum acceptance that their secret was at last going to be revealed) now watched the Slayer blush absolutely scarlet, from chin to ear tips. Not meeting anyone's eyes, she mumbled, "Um, he said the vamps argued about how the Mayor died. One of those fangsters talked about him choking to death on something shoved down his throat, with the other vamp holding out for, uh, how do I put it? Let's just say, something else fatally stuffed up in the other direction."

It took a few moments for Giles, Harmony, and Willow to figure out precisely what Buffy was trying to say, which resulted in a simultaneous triple gape at the very embarrassed Slayer. A stunned Giles was the first to express his astonishment, spluttering, "What the devil are you talking about? Wasn't anything further said to make this more comprehensible-?"

Cutting off an Englishman's beginning rant was the morose statement then delivered by Xander, "It was both at the same time, guys."

"_What?_" was yelped in chorus by the others in the warehouse, including those in their heads, as they all stared in shock at the defiant boy.

Xander lifted a stiff index finger, determinedly waggling this into their direction, as the high school student stuck up for his mental pal, "Look, people, it was total self-defense! Myron was in the fight of his life! The instant he saw an opening, he grabbed the first thing on hand from the Bag O' Fun, and then… Um… Okay, he used it without even thinking, to make sure the Mayor went down for the count! Afterwards, we really didn't want to remember it, much less tell you, even if what we did saved our lives. Yeah, it was that close."

Seeing her boyfriend's face abruptly paling, along with strongly shuddering at his horrible recollections, Harmony instantly rushed forward and threw her arms around Xander in a loving embrace. A beat later, the pair were joined by two other girls, with Buffy and Willow also hugging their friends. Giles just stood there, rapidly cleaning his eyeglasses with a handkerchief, all while trying to distract both himself and William in his mind on how narrowly someone the Watcher secretly thought of as a son had just missed falling in battle.

A few moments later, after being prompted by a bewildered archer sharing his body, the librarian appealed to a teenage male happily surrounded by three young ladies, "Excuse me, Xander, but how was it even possible for any particular weapon to accomplish, er, _that?_"

As he gratefully breathed in the scent of Harmony's hair pressed against his face, Xander absently replied, with his response being a perfect summation of the absolutely preposterous lives of the Scooby gang ever since Halloween:

"Oh, you really couldn't call it a weapon, Giles. Nah, what finished the fight turned out to be a very elastic rubber chicken."


End file.
